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Beyond the White City, by the silver tide
Where banners sleep and legends hide
A prince rides out from the coastal lands
Not for the crown, not for command
They don't speak his name in the fireside tales
The screen went dark, the story pales
But in the ink, where truth still stands
He answered war with open hands
No songs were sung when he crossed the stone
No cheers to claim, no throne to own
Just steel, just faith, just sworn decree
To hold the line for what must be
Hear the hooves on the broken ground
Silver swans with a thunderous sound
When hope was thin and the gates were torn
He rode at dawn, unpraised, unadorned
No crown of gold, no victor's claim
Just duty burning like a flame
Remember the ones who stood alone—
Prince Imrahil, and the Swans of Dol Amroth
Minas Tirith bled under endless night
Black sails looming, no end in sight
He came with knights in silver and blue
The last to ride when the brave were few
While others waited for fate to turn
His blades were drawn, his cities burned
The only riders the walls could see
Till the horns of Rohan broke the siege
He did not ask to rule or stay
He held the realm till dawn's first ray
A Steward's seat, a borrowed throne
Just long enough to guard it home
Hear the hooves on the broken ground
Silver swans with a thunderous sound
When hope was thin and the gates were torn
He rode at dawn, unpraised, unadorned
No crown of gold, no victor's claim
Just duty burning like a flame
Remember the ones who stood alone—
Prince Imrahil, and the Swans of Dol Amroth
History favors the loudest name
The shining king, the chosen flame
But every war is carried through
By quiet hearts that just stay true
When Faramir fell and the city shook
He held the line, he bore the look
Of someone who knows the cost of light
And pays it still, without the sight
Hear the hooves on the broken ground
Silver swans, let the truth resound
Not all heroes wear the crown
Some hold the wall till the king comes round
If darkness falls and songs are wrong
Let this one last, let this one belong
To the prince who asked for history alone—
Prince Imrahil... and his knights of stone
So speak his name when tales are told
In the ink, not just the gold
For Middle-earth still stands because
Of men like him—
Who never asked applause